Hummingbirds
by golden-pearl06
Summary: Iggy: On an unusually hot day in England, Arthur decides to have tea under an umbrella tree where he has an odd dream.  What happens when he discovers that everything wasn't quite what it seemed? SLASH. USUK.


****AN: Hello everyone, this is Iggy. I hope that you enjoy this little ditty. The lovely Goldfish proofread it for me, so thank you my love. I went ahead and made this rated PG for what might be considered slightly coarse language as well as the boy x boy pairing. I figure that it was better safe than sorry. Please let me know if you enjoy it.

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><p><strong>London Tea Party, or Hummingbird<strong>

It was a rather well known fact that Arthur Kirkland did not like tea parties. Well, it's not that he did not like tea or parties separately, he just hated being ribbed at tea parties about a certain, past, tea party, and that joke was actually quite old thank you. It wouldn't surprise him if he never actually found a tea party that he enjoyed; they all ended up being terrible wastes of perfectly good tea.

It was a sweltering midsummer day, but then again this was England we were talking about. Any temperature much above 24 degrees Celsius felt like a sauna and the fact that they were breaking records at 36 did not help matters in Arthur's mind. A sigh escaped him as he held the rim of his cup of tea just in front of his lips and contemplated whether it was worth trying the American iced tea. Promptly, a scowl flittered across his face as he closed his eyes, faced the reaper, and tentatively sipped his tea. He'd be damned if he did anything that pigheaded, overly excitable, dense, handsome, ultimately kind…

Arthur growled at his tea cup before setting it down with a clink that reverberated in his headache. If he couldn't go a day without thinking positive things about his former colony he was truly going around the bend. Of course, that bend was a few centuries long, but dammit he was sure it hadn't been this bad before the past few years. As he pinched the bridge of his nose to stem the flow of memories, the frown finally disappeared from his face and he picked his tea up once more. He no longer knew the precise point when his feelings changed for his former colony, but he knew they were far south of proper. He knew that he shouldn't care; nobody knew how he felt as he had made damn sure of it after all. The last thing he needed was his family's concern, Francis' scorn, and definitely the look of disgust that would surely mar Alfred's handsome face. Crap, there was the "h" word again…

The British nation carefully set his tea cup down once again, resigned to the fact that this was probably teeter-totter tea time, but at least this time he set the cup down with a little more care than he had taken before when he had been upset with himself. In fact, he felt a shade guilty for having treated it so poorly. One should never underestimate the affection a British man had for his tea sets, and this was his favorite. The set was lovely in its own right, delicate porcelain in a shade off white, hand painted with intricate details of little colorful flowers and hummingbirds. It was obvious that the set was also well-loved as, in spite of the obsessive care that he took with it, there was still the one cup set up opposite him with the chip in the rim. Arthur snorted as he remembered Alfred's fumbling. The fact that the set was produced by Royal Doulton under the commission of his beloved Queen Victoria only spoke more of its quality, rarity, and pricelessness. He only ever took it out when he was feeling particular blue and it always managed to cheer him right up. As he looked over the beautiful tea set a smile worked its way onto his face and he finally felt that he could get to what he had come out here for in the first place: a nice, quiet read in his garden.

Practiced hands slipped on a pair of reading glasses and he picked up a well-loved and weathered copy of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" and set to mind the idea that he was actually going to read it rather than recite it from memory.

It was going alright, all things considered, but as the sun beat down it was obvious that he wasn't even safe under the shade of the green umbrella tree under which he had set up his little table. Stubborn as ever, Arthur refused to move until he finished his book. He knew the moment that he left the sanctuary of the garden the prime minister would have him set to work in one way or another. That was the last thing he wanted. Thus, he found himself drifting off into a haze that felt rather close to sleep and he was not about to question it if he didn't have to do so.

After an indeterminate amount of time filled with swirling heat and fairy wings, a warm chuckle caught his attention and he looked around at his overly bright surroundings. 'Ah, this must be more dream then,' he vaguely thought to himself. Arthur didn't mind dreaming, in fact, he rather liked them. The overly shiny cast to the air and the too bright color of the flowers only added to the surreal atmosphere of it all; that and that warm chuckle.

"What are you doing out here on a day like this? Never seen such a heat wave in this rainy place."

Arthur couldn't help it, the sarcastic bite to his voice was as natural as his left hand, "I think it's pretty obvious that its tea time and that I am reading. Also, you need to say, 'I have never seen such a heat wave' or it is not a complete sentence."

"Okay, whatever grouchy pants, mind if I join you?"

Arthur mumbled several mild curses under his breath but the voice seemed to take that as accent and set himself down opposite him at the table. Arthur squinted his eyes in an attempt to scowl, but it was too bright. Whatever, the voice was pleasant and his dreams were normally weird anyway so whatever. "Why are you so bright?" he asked, admittedly a little stupidly. There was that bright chuckle again, but it seemed a little different this time, as did the edge to the voice.

"I think you've been out here a touch too long England."

Arthur wrinkled his nose and promptly said, "Better falling asleep at tea time and dreaming about nosy glowing people than working with that pompous old minister."

"You're dreaming?"

What was with that odd question? "That's pretty obvious too. You're a pretty dim glowing person." He wrinkled his nose again when all he got was a snort in response.

"Never heard it put quite that way before," was all that the figure said and, after he squinted, Arthur thought perhaps he was smiling softly.

"I have never met anyone, besides Alfred, who smiled after he was insulted," he said in an attempt to be flippant which was only met with silence. That suited Arthur just fine and he went back to looking around. Absently, he wondered why it was so damn hot even in his dream. It really must be hot, he was sweating! In a dream! That was absolutely ridiculous. A loud clinking brought him out of his musings as he snapped, "Be careful. This is my favorite tea set!"

It was quiet again and the voice asked softly, "It's your favorite?"

"Of course," Arthur sighed in exasperation, "I've had it for ages, it Royal Doulton, and even better yet Alfred gave it to me even if the fumbling fool chipped it later. It gives it character and its precious to me because he thought I'd like it. He said that it reminded him of me, not that I could ever figure out why." He sniffed and sipped his tea as the figure seemed to quietly contemplate what he had said and didn't register the edge of shock to this particular silence. Well, it wouldn't be surprising though. That had been something Arthur would never admit if he was awake, and especially not to a stranger. But this strange glowing fellow set him at ease even if he had almost chipped the tea set again. Only Alfred was allowed to do that, even if he did get an earful about being clumsy.

"It's the hummingbirds."

Arthur furrowed his brow in confusion, 'What an odd thing to say,' he thought again, and only managed, "What? What about hummingbirds?"

"It's the hummingbirds. They work hard for everything they get. In spite of being so small, they're spunky and you shouldn't underestimate them. Those pointy beaks hurt… Also, they are incredibly beautiful, just like England…"

Arthur gave that some thought and just said, "Oh…" A flush, other than the heat flush already present on his face, rushed across his face. "That's…" Actually, he didn't know what that was. Nice perhaps, but it would have been better coming from Alfred. He set his book down and looked carefully at his tea set. The hummingbirds were beautiful, he had always thought so. He finally decided to say, "That's ridiculous. I am not beautiful." He flushed again as that warm chuckle washed over him.

"Handsome then."

"That's better," he said softly before he leaned back in his chair and looked up at the canopy of green leaves spread out above his head. "I'm hot…"

"I'd imagine so. It's in the nineties out here ain't it?"

"Ain't is, quite simply, not a word… and something like that…"

Smiling, but somehow concerned blue eyes swam in front of his green as that warm voice said, "Let's get you inside, huh?"

Rather than protesting, all Arthur said was, "Sleepy…" as strong arms lifted him up gently and cradled him close. He closed his eyes and said, the sleep clouding his voice. "I wish Alfred would carry me like this…" before everything went black before he could register the jolt that statement startled out of the glowing figure of his dreams.

Later that night Arthur woke with a start and looked around his bedroom with a confused look on his face. How in the world had he gotten back inside? He doubted that blithering idiot of a minister managed to carry him inside, no matter how light he was in all seriousness. Perhaps he had some of the guards carry him in, which was a thought to which Arthur wrinkled his nose in distaste. However, he was quickly distracted with worry as he hurried out of bed and into his tea room. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that his tea set had been cleaned and placed back in its place of honor in his china cabinet. Carefully, he inspected each piece just to double check that each one had been cleaned and polished to his exact specifications. Once completely satisfied he decided it was best just to go back to bed since it was so late. He left the room and turned down the hall to head back to his room before he promptly ran into something solid and fell rather gracelessly to the ground.

"Are you alright?" came a familiar warm voice that made him flush from more than just embarrassment. He looked up into familiar blue eyes and frowned before he asked, "Alfred, what in the world are you doing here? And of course I'm alright!" he snapped at the end as he picked himself up from the floor stubbornly and brushed himself off just in case he was dirty. It annoyed him when all Alfred did was look amused, a hint of a smile on the bespectacled nation's face. It was gone quickly though and Arthur swore he didn't miss it.

"I was worried about you. Your country is experiencing a record heat wave you know." Arthur couldn't help the stunned expression that raced across his face. In fact, that information stunned a civil response out of him, "Oh, well thank you, but I am alright." He was even more confused when a frown found its way onto Alfred's face.

"Are you really sure about that?"

That question just confused Arthur. "What do you mean? Of course I'm alright. I have a bit of a headache, and I definitely fell asleep outside which is a tad out of character, but otherwise I am alright." He was unsure if Alfred realized that Arthur was going to stick with his typical stubborn self if the pronouncement to his frown was anything to judge. Arthur squared his shoulders and prepared for the oncoming fight, but that fight never came.

Alfred sighed and looked over Arthur, worry still present in the tight line of his lips. He said softly, "Fine Arthur, but don't underestimate the heat."

"Well thank you for your concern," Arthur said, obviously not sure what else to say, he wasn't used to this calm, worried version of Alfred and, although he rather liked it, it also freaked him out rather thoroughly.

Alfred seemed to be debating with himself before he finally said, "Don't mention it…" to which Arthur nodded his head. The American, much closer to his typical self, then rushed on, "Alright then, I'm heading back to my place but I'm coming over for tea on Friday, the heat should have broken by that time. Got it old man?"

Arthur bristled, "Yes, fine," he snapped, "But you had better not call me old man again or I'll have to show you why I was the most feared pirate in the Spanish main. And don't you dare bring any coffee either." Alfred just gave him a cheeky grin before he walked off with a wave and left Arthur fuming, but smiling secretly behind Alfred's back.

It really had been a monster of a heat wave. Although that first day, and particularly that weird dream, had been the peak of it, the next four days had definitely not been a walk in the park. Still, Arthur had made it just like he said he would, although he had taken care not to spend too much time outside and away from the air conditioning. He had decided to prepare the table and tea set for Alfred outside in his garden, humming to himself before singing the brewing instructions to himself. "A teaspoon for each person and another for the pot, let it steep until its dark and and you'll enjoy the tea a lot…"

This was the scene that greeted Alfred as he came up the stone paved walkway. He had to keep himself from laughing in order to enjoy the sight to his fullest. Besides, Arthur would vehemently deny it, and why in the world would he want to ruin the Brit's obvious good mood? Sure, he was terribly bad at "reading the mood" as Kiku so often reminded him, but he occasionally had moments of social awareness. As Arthur removed the checked the tea, humming to himself, Alfred took the final few steps towards the tea, clearing his throat and saying in a warm voice, "Decided on the tree again Arthur?"

Alfred watched, amused, as Arthur started and looked up at him with wide green eyes. A beautiful flush washed across his face. "What are you going on about? But you're just on time, the tea is ready…" came the clipped voice that just made Alfred chuckle as he took his seat. However, he suddenly fell silent as he noticed the tea set that Arthur had chosen. It was Royal Doulton with painted flowers and hummingbirds.

Arthur felt something like a rock fall into his stomach as that rich voice had fallen over him and looked up stunned to see that it was Alfred and he wasn't dreaming. That had been such an odd thing to say! He didn't often tea under his garden canopy tree it had only been a spur of the moment decision just the other day… He almost spilled the tea every which way in his sudden nerves, sitting down across from Alfred who was silently observing the tea set. Why was he so nervous? That had been a dream! It certainly hadn't been Alfred… even though he couldn't explain Alfred's actions or the fact that it certainly sounded like Alfred, but the other country hadn't said a word! He shook his head, 'Get ahold of yourself old boy!' he chastised himself. Unfortunately, Alfred's silence was just making him more nervous and he couldn't help but snap, "What in the world has you so fascinated?"

Alfred looked up, slightly startled to have been caught. "Sorry," he quickly apologized, taking a small sip of the tea and managing not to make a face. He wished he had some coffee, he preferred the strong flavor. He looked up at the worried green gaze and said softly, "This is the tea set I bought you isn't it? I didn't think you'd still have it…" he said honestly while he also carefully avoided the word "ain't". He watched the older country carefully pick out what he wanted to say before he tilted his head as he listened.

"Yes, well… it's a fine tea set."

A smile flitted across Alfred's face. That was as close to a genuine compliment he had managed to wheedle out of the island nation. "It reminded me of you," he said softly, looking down at the delicately painted hummingbirds.

Arthur didn't like that knowing smile on Alfred's face and it only caused goose bumps to rise up along his skin. This all seemed a little too eerily close to his dream and he had never been fond of deja vu. "I remember you saying that… I still don't know why." That was when it happened.

"It's the hummingbirds."

Alfred looked up at Arthur who had gone rather pale, a clink of china alerted him to the fact that the smaller man had dropped his tea spoon. He held that emerald gaze as the love of his life asked, breathlessly, "What… what did you just say?" And so he repeated, "It's the hummingbirds. They work hard for everything they get. In spite of being so small, they're spunky and you shouldn't underestimate them. Those pointy beaks hurt… Also, they are incredibly beautiful, just like England… Sorry, handsome."

He watched as Arthur looked like he wanted to evaporate on the spot and might have managed it if he had been water and his embarrassment had been actual heat. "Arthur…" he said softly after he realized the other man looked like he was going to bolt, "Arthur, wait a minute…"

Arthur wasn't really listening. He was in the middle of a rather large panic attack. That had been a dream! There was no way that was real! But it had been really hot and he had been rather confused. And how had Alfred found out he hadn't been doing well and got to England so fast anyway? He had been wondering that… He must have come over to actually visit randomly, like he did, and stumbled across him doing a good job of nearly having died in the rare English heat wave. Alfred's words finally broke through to him as he contemplated running and hiding in his tea room as he looked up and started to find Alfred knelt beside him. "Wha…" was all he managed before a warm hand gently cupped his cheek. He felt his tension begin to melt away as Alfred smiled up at him and admitted, "I had always hoped you'd let me carry you like that."

They didn't need to say anything else. Emerald eyes closed as soft lips met his and he reached over to clutch to the front of the American's shirt. It wasn't like those stinging, fireworks type kisses you read about in books. It was warm and wet, a little hard in spite of how gentle Alfred had pressed his lips to his own, and that made it perfect in his mind. Besides, if he had witnessed fireworks he would have pronounced himself crazy anyway and been committed to four teas a day for the rest of his life. When air demanded that they broke apart Arthur found his wits again and lightly slapped Alfred's shoulder.

"Owww!" the American said before he pouted, "What was that for?"

"For being an idiot."

A cheeky grin broke across Alfred's face as he said, "I learned from the best," and Arthur silenced his cheek with another scorching kiss.

It was that day that Arthur decided he liked this kind of tea party, it was an appropriate waste of tea.


End file.
